


Prayers to His Angel

by CheshireMoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confessions, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireMoon/pseuds/CheshireMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prays become long buried confessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayers to His Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casdeansamwinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casdeansamwinchester/gifts).



> Forgot to post this awhile back. This was a ficlet requested by @casdeansamwinchester.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, staring around his room in the Bunker.  A frown tugged at the corners of his lips and he dropped his face into his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.  A sigh moved through him and he straightened once more.  His body buzzed with an inexplicable unease.  

Unable to sit still any longer, Dean got to his feet and paced his room for a few moments, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, coming to a stop at the foot of his head, fingertips grazing the wooden board as he looked up at his shelf of mementos.  They were mostly old, used weapons from long ago hunts that raised a few memories for Dean.  He smirked at them, almost longing for the ease of the long since past days when a hunt was simply a hunt, no angelic or demonic strings attached.  He hummed in the back of his throat, turning his eyes away.  Things had definitely been simpler without demons, and they sure as hell had been simpler without angels.  

He cast his eyes to the ground, his frown returning.  ”No dorky little angels to worry about all the time, at least,” he muttered to himself, sighing heavily.  His room suddenly seemed too small, so he quietly made his way out the door, hoping that Sam was fast asleep.  He walked slowly to the library, hands still in his pockets, eyes on the floor.  A black cloud hung over him, and no matter how many times he tried to wave it off, it kept returning.  He thought that perhaps if he knew that Cas was safe, it would dissipate somewhat. 

Sam had rolled his eyes and made a  _face_ earlier when Dean had casually mentioned how long it had been since Cas had dropped by, but no amount of poking or prodding would pull anything further from him.  The most he got was a dismissive wave of the hand and a, “Figure it out for yourself Dean.”  The words itched at the back of his mind almost as much as Cas’ absence was.  

Relief washed through him to find the library empty.  He threw himself in his usual seat at the table, flicking a couple lamps on.  The warm glow suffused much of the room, wrapping around him as if to try to allay some of his worries.  Dean folded his hands in front of him, lacing his fingers together slowly, sighing and swallowing his pride.  

He glanced up at the ceiling, as if somehow that would ensure his message would go through, and cleared his throat.  ”Hey, Cas… It’s uh.. It’s Dean.  It’s just, we haven’t heard from you in awhile, and I wanted to know if you were alright.  If you could fly in and let me know, that would be freakin’ fantastic.”  He waited a few moments, listened for anything, and then looked around, deflating a little when he found the Bunker still empty as ever.  

"Dammit, Cas," he muttered darkly.  "Sometimes I wonder if you even listen anymore."  He scowled up at the ceiling, hands clenching together tighter than before.  "Sometimes I pray and I swear it just goes unnoticed, goes to some damn answering machine that you never seem to check.  I could say anything, admit anything, and I bet you wouldn’t even show."  His anger was sudden and unexpected, raining down from the black cloud above his head surely.  

"I worry about you, man.  So much bad shit has happened to all of us that I can’t help but worry about you, but that just doesn’t seem to matter to you, does it?  It’s all well and good for you to worry about Sammy and I, and to make sacrifices for us, but when I want to do the same, it’s like it’s nothing to you."  Dean shook his head, unlacing his fingers.  He leaned back in the chair, glaring angrily at the table, as if somehow the large, ornate piece of wood was to blame for his unhappiness.  

"It scares the hell out of me how badly I care," he said softly, not even sure who he was talking to anymore.  The words kept flowing, but he wasn’t sure if he was controlling them anymore.  "I just… I just want you nearby so I can make sure you’re okay, because if I lost you, lost you again, I don’t know what I’d do.  It’s nearly killed me in the past, and I don’t think I can do that again, man.  Besides Sammy, you’re the most important person to me, Cas.  I wish you would understand that."  Dean clenched his jaw to stem the flow of words.  "I don’t know why I’m still talking.  You sure as hell aren’t listening."

"Dean."  He turned suddenly, heart slamming up into his throat with surprise.  Dean was on his feet almost immediately, turned to look back at his angel.  

"Cas."  They locked eyes for several moments, and Dean tried to read the emotions in Cas’ ethereal blue eyes, but could not identify them.  

"I have been listening, Dean."  The words slammed into Dean like a kick to the chest.  He glanced away.  Castiel stepped closer, hands hanging at his sides limply, like always.  "Did you mean those things you said?"  The question caught Dean off guard, and he looked up at the angel.

"Of course I did," he responded gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the table.  He found himself further surprised when Cas smiled sadly.

"I did not realise that you cared so much, Dean." Cas said quietly.

"Why the hell would you think that?  Of course I care!  You’ve been there for me more than anyone other than Sam.  You’re one of the few people who actually give a shit whether I live or die, one of the few people who would actually raise a finger to help me."  Dean felt the sudden urge to step forward, closer to Cas, to pull him into an embrace.  The desire brought him up short, and froze.  Cas was looking at him with big, blue eyes, his expression one of wonder.  They were both silent for several moments, Cas seemingly on the edge of something, Dean trying to comprehend his sudden rush of emotions.  Cas opened his mouth to say something, and then quickly closed it.  

"Cas."

"Dean."

They spoke at the same time, and both paused to allow the other one to speak.  Dean motioned for Cas to go.  

"Dean, may I ask you a direct question?"  Cas asked, tilting his head to the side.  His eyes tightened at the corners, as if a little nervous.

"Aren’t all of your questions frighteningly direct, Cas?"  Dean asked, one corner of his mouth lifting up into a small smirk.  Cas ignored his question and pushed forward with his.

"Have you ever been in love?"  Dean’s eyebrows flew up, his heart flying up into his throat, as if trying to prevent him from breathing.  Cas kept watching him, waiting for an answer, and Dean swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, I have," was his simple answer.

"What is it like?"  Cas asked.  

"I guess… You want to spend all your time with them.  You want to protect them no matter what it costs.  You smile more when they’re around, no matter how much shit life’s given you.  I mean, when they’re away, things are darker, harder to deal with, but when they’re around, no matter how shitty the situation is, it’s just easier, y’know?  You trust them, no matter what’s happened, and you hope they trust you the same way."  Dean stared at his feet while he spoke, arms still crossed over his chest.  He knew what he was saying, knew what he was feeling, and it scared the hell out of him.

"May I tell you something, Dean?"  Cas inquired slowly, as if considering his words carefully.  Dean’s uncrossed his arms, bringing his hands down upon the table.  He gripped the edge tightly, still staring at the floor.

"Sure, Cas."

"I think I am in love with you.  I have been considering it for the past few days, and what you have just said makes me very sure of it."  Cas sounded somewhat unsure, as if testing out the words, and it made Dean’s heart clench.  He squeezed his eyes shut, hating and adoring the words coming from Cas all at once.  People who loved him got hurt.  Or killed.  It was an undisputed fact.

"Cas…" Dean said, his voice just a breath, trying to figure how to put what he wanted to say into words.  Before he could say anything, Cas had stepped up to him, leaving very little space between them.

"Dean.  I am in love with you," Cas said firmly and confidently, his deep baritone sending a shiver down Dean’s spine.  The words somehow eased an ache in his chest and yet it made him want to run away, like a little boy.  Cas was waiting for some sort of response, and Dean opened his mouth to speak.  He had to try to let Cas down, try to convince him that he didn’t feel the same way, otherwise somehow he’d get hurt.  People who loved him always got hurt.  

"Cas," he began, but faltered.  The words that poured out of him were not the ones he intended to say, but rather the ones he burned to say, "I love you too.  God, am I in love with you."  A breath of relief moved through Cas, and he closed the small gap between them, gripped Dean’s shirt, pulling him close.  Cas’ mouth closed uncertainly over Dean’s, and Dean almost smiled at the obvious lack of experience.  Had the angel ever kissed anyone before?  Against his better judgement, against everything that his instincts screamed at him, Dean slid a hand behind Cas’ neck and gently corrected the kiss so as not to be so awkward.  It was soft and gentle and short, and Dean pulled away after a few moments, his eyes closed tight.

"I’m gonna get you killed, Cas.  I get everyone close to me killed, you know that."  Cas’ hands faltered over Dean’s chest, and then moved up to cup his face.  Dean opened his eyes in surprise at the rough but comforting hands on the scruffy skin of his cheeks.  

"I don’t care, Dean.  Anything could kill us with the life that the two of us lead.  Anything could happen, but I would rather die knowing that you hold the knowledge of why I Fell.  Of how, without knowing it, I have loved you since I first cradled your shattered soul so long ago.  Your purity, despite all that you have been forced through, your kindness, your generosity and perseverance…  Your incredible capacity for love in a world that destroys hearts…"  Dean felt like he could cry at how tender Cas’ expression was.  No one had looked at him in that way before.  No one had ever known every part of him, good and bad, known every secret, big and small, and still looked at him with such softness.  

"I don’t want to be the reason you get killed, Cas," Dean protested weakly.  Cas hesitated momentarily, awkward as ever, but soon wrapped his arms around Dean in what he hoped was a comforting embrace.  Dean allowed it, leaned into it, unexpectedly comforted by gentleness that Cas showed despite the sheer strength that he possessed.

"It would be a great honour to die for you, Dean Winchester." 

**Author's Note:**

> Have ficlet prompts for me? Send me an ask @sammylied on Tumblr!!


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